


Punto caramelo

by Taniushka12



Series: Things to fuel a fire [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Desolation Branded Intrusive Thoughts, Desolation!Martin, Light Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Mild Gore, Unrequited Love, Volatile Feelings, i mean it is angst for jon but yknow, the one sided part isnt really important its just.. a fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-10-20 20:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20681498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taniushka12/pseuds/Taniushka12
Summary: "Punto caramelo" also known as the point of making caramel where if aplied more heat and time it starts to go burnt and bitter.Or, Martin is free, and discovers that when your emotions are as intense as afirelove and hate can feel very similar.





	Punto caramelo

**Author's Note:**

> kind of direct sequel to my last fic in this verse, [Indulge a thought](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437181), in which Martin manages to cut ties with the institute because the cult of the lightless flame got him (rather much against his will) before the lonely, and now everything he feels is amplified at 200% (and also has Desolation Branded intrusive thoughts) so hes p torned most of the time 
> 
> written nearly a month ago (and before jon&martin's actual convo in ep 154,,) and, yes, I'll admit it, while i was having a rather shitty day and feeling p angry at stuff, as it happens ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

If anyone asked, no, he wasn't avoiding him, avoiding all of them. He was just busy. One tended to be busy after getting tortured and killed and brought back to life, and that without the fact of his little favor of protection to the Institute (leaving it alone was the least She could do).

But if he was being serious, then yes. Of course he was avoiding him. And it was working until he finally got to free himself from the chains of the Institute, and Jon caught him before he got to leave the institute's grounds.

—Martin?

He clenched his teeth, voice so small part of him though that it didn't suit him. Even as he started walking faster down the stairs he still heard:

—Martin, wait!

And a hand on his arm stopping him. The grip on his skin made him shudder, as the involuntary image of his hand sinking on it and the wax wrapping it hot flickered on his mind. He turned to face him, careful, trying to keep his voice even.

—What do you want, Jon?

—I... —it was the first time he managed to start a conversation in months now, after he so miraculously woke up from his coma, and it showed (or maybe he never quite knew how to talk to him, despite the years)—. I... heard that you were able to... quit your job? Is this true?

—Word travels fast in the archives...

—Well, no, I don't think the others know yet. I don't even know how they would react...

A glint of worry tainted his eyes and a wave of jealousy ate his still tender heart. Has he _ever_ looked like that with him? Despite all the time that they've spent together? He did his best to bite down the not-quite-his-but-not-quite-alien resentment before Jon spoke again.

—But is it true? How... how did you manage to do it?

—I'd... prefer not to say it? Honestly? You can ask Elias. —_No, no, no, not Elias_. He hated Elias, the images of him burning still fresh on his mind and his hands just a bit idle with the memory—. Aren't you happy for me, though? At least one of us did it...

—Yes, yes, of course I'm happy... —Jon smiled, and oh... oh he was so pretty. His gentle (if tense) smile, his tired (and hungry) eyes, for a moment he let himself savor the sweetness of such expression (that held certain... sadness to it), until he opened his mouth again—. I just... I missed you, that's all. I... Will miss you...

Soft and sweet and short and useless. He missed him too. He had missed him terribly, constantly, over and over again for years even with the knowledge that he could barely stand him at some point, Martin wasn't even sure Jon had Liked him in the first place whereas he-

—Miss me? —There was something poisonous on his own gentle voice, he was aware of it, the same way he was aware of his insides, slowly twisting, and melting and collapsing each part in top of the other over and over again, hot spite that he had refused to face now climbing up his throat. He needed to get out, far far away from him, he wasn't thinking straight and yet

And Yet he was transfixed on the way his eyebrow twitched, his concern mixing with something else. Pain, maybe<strike>, and oh, God.</strike>

—Yes, of course I-

—And what, exactly, did you miss? —His words surprised him, those big dark eyes looking up at him in confusion—. How I made tea, when you were already out there jumping around the country? How I always defended you, when you were _stalking_ us? How I was always there if you needed to blame someone, before?

—What? No-

—Or are you just sad because I was the last one left? After Sasha and Tim…

—...Martin…

—Do you ever feel guilty, Jon? About how your entire team died? —He knew he was being cruel, and unfair, and part of him really wanted to stop. The memory of them made him ache, the few people he actually considered friends if only for a short while. But he couldn't. Not with the way in which Jon was looking at him, so small, so sad. The Institute loomed behind him wanting to engulf him whole, but it never looked more flammable than it did in that moment. He wanted to stop, he was hurting him, he was...— Except for me, right? Is That why you miss me? Because you couldn’t make sure _they_ stayed alive and now you’re trying to make amends… Are you sure you don’t miss _them_?

—Please.

He could feel his heart (or the imitation of it, or _something_, he felt something) beating fast, viciously drumming on his ear as he looked at him. He looked... miserable. He wanted to hold him close, to apologize and take everything back, to hug him and burn every piece of skin he could get his hands on. A stiff shook of his head was all it took, though, for Jon to realize that there was something off behind his sudden animosity. He had always been so smart, and observant when it mattered.

—Martin, you... —his tone was deliberate, one step back for him, one step forward for himself, despite his pained eyes now looking at him with a weird glance that he definitely didn't like—. What...?

—Oh no —No no no he wasn't gonna <strike>run away</strike> _ask_. Taking advantage on their height difference he got closer and held his face. He wanted to think carefully and tenderly, like so many times he dreamed in the past, just cup his face as he looked up to him... but it was **wrong**. The way he was looking up to him was wrong, his hands were wrong, his feelings were wrong, all over the fucking place—. No, I _know_ what you're trying to do.

He looked... so... beautiful... like that. Terrified eyes staring at him with confusion and then dread at the sudden understatement. Right. That was a thing that happened now, apparently. When he opened his mouth full of intention he put his thumb above his lips and tried so hard not to look, not to try to imprint the feeling to memory.

The image of an archivist who couldn't speak sparked on his mind, lips melted by the fire. Tongue burned by the heat. Cheeks and neck scarred by the flickers. He wanted to kiss him so bad he could weep.

He Needed to get away as soon as possible, for Jon's safety. He didn't want to burn him, to cause the same pain that took his hand already, or worse. Without easing his grip on his head <strike>just a bit longer, please</strike> he spoke, as soft as he could manage.

—I'm... _free_ now, I don't want you to go looking for me... —but that wasn't enough, was it? Jon had done more with less warning. The words at his throat burned, and he had to take a breath to speak with clarity— I... I hate you.

_ I simply hate you_

Martin knew how much damage those words could make, and he hated, oh he really hated the glee that sparked on his chest at the sight of him flinching, eyes wide.

—N-no you don't... —Rough and dry lips spoke against his thumb and he licked his own, nodding.

—I do.

—_Tell me the **truth**._

And that was when he felt it, the so called compulsion. The truth, the truth, what even was the truth at that point? He had missed him deeply, he loved him terribly, he had felt so much pain for that love, and he would take it again and again. He would kill himself and anyone he needed for him to be safe, now that he could. That was all different than hate, wasn't it? He hated Elias, he knew that much. He wanted to hurt Elias, wanted to burn him and make his insides melt, but looking down at the man in front of him didn't he want the same? Didn't part of him want to fall on his lips and consume him like a fire would, fuelled further by love, aching so much it hurt even before he became _that_? Because yes, he cried when he got the news so many months ago, he felt grief piling up with the days when he went waiting for him to wake up, but at the end of the day he couldn't ignore the anger when he heard that he woke up, after everything was said and done and after hearing about his little adventures.

So yes, he loved him, and yes, he wanted to reduce him to nothing. There were times where he loved so hard and so hot that the sweet taste under his tongue turned bitter. Jon's eyes grew wider as his palm grew warm, before gripping his hands with a hint of nail slowly digging on his skin. Martin just got closer, scorching heat picking at his lips.

—I. Hate. You. —Despite part of him dying with every punctuation, it really did felt nice afterwards. Tingly. And just for a moment he let himself enjoy the rush he felt at the complete obliviousness and hurt in his eyes, knowing he always had time to regret it later, before letting go of his face. He still wanted to kiss him, but when did he not? At least he would remember the warm red of his cheeks—. Don't come after me, Jon.

And, he then learned as he walked away, apparently there _was_ a certain sweet aftertaste in the whole bitterness of the situation.

**Author's Note:**

> YES i wrote this bc i was angry but also, like, i was saving like half of this scenario for a lonely!martin scene, bc i Do think that at least half of the reasons why jon is so fixed on martin this season is because of guilt over the og team's deaths. Like sure he does care abt martin but... yknow, he was never his fave of the bunch
> 
> Hmm hope you liked it u_u


End file.
